


The New Republic

by MrProphet



Category: Master of Orion
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	1. Passing Out

_Orion University Space Academy_

The instructors talked about graduation as a moment of personal triumph. Ohica found it hard to feel any personal pride in a moment shared with more than one-hundred thousand other graduates, most of whom were, of course, total strangers. They stood in the aptly-named grand hall, a vast chamber at the apex of the orbital station, encircling the central dais, from which multiple holographic images of the Commander-in-Chief and the Grand Marshall addressed the vast crowd, reminding them that this was a moment of personal triumph. 

The graduates were ordered into three groups, marked out by the colours of the dress uniforms: dark green for the marine officers; flame red for the pilots; and dark blue for fight officers. The Imperator was now telling them that they were all equals, a mighty band of embryal cogenates – the Psilons had long since abandoned natural birthing as dangerous and unhygienic and poetic license as unproductive and misleading – but there were few if any in the chamber who did not know in their hearts that  _their_  Corps was the best, and that the gravy navy were morons, the rocket jockeys asinine snobs and/or that the gloaty boaties did nothing but bomb planets while better males, females and other took all the risks. 

The claim that their bond transcended species was equally preposterous. In theory the many races of the Imperium were not separated during the ceremony, but in reality… Well, no-one liked sitting next to a Silicoid and the Sakkra were just plain smelly. The Mrrshan and the Bulrathi were just plain incompatible, each race bringing out the other’s territorial instincts. The Alkari were hanging by their feet from the roof for reasons of space, the Gnolams had all the best seats, the Klackons gravitated naturally into micro-hives and the Trilarians were barely present at all, in body at least. Only the Elerians, Meklars, Humans and Psilons made any attempt to mingle. Well, and the Darlocks of course, but who ever knew who might be a Darlock anyway?

At last the speeches were over and the former cadets were called upon as a body to swear the oath of allegiance.

“I dedicate my life and strength to the service of the New Orion Imperium, its citizens (as defined in the 3rd Orion Citizenship Act, with especial attention drawn to Sections 113-127 inclusive, outlining protocol for military involvement in civilian affairs), Senate, planetary governments (in accordance with the demarcation of planetary and Imperial military mobilisation defined in the 17th Act of Imperial Charter, Sections 312-908 inclusive) and client states (as defined in the several Acts of Charter). I swear to accord myself in a manner becoming of an Imperial officer (as laid out in the Codes of Conduct), to respect the chain of command (see organisational charts 13D, 22.1D-F and X3), support my embryal cogenate officers and to defend and cherish every sentience under my command (as defined in the Sentience Act), and to uphold the Pax Orion.

“This I swear to hold as my sacred trust (the 103rd Sanctity Act includes a full list of prescribed and registered holy texts and definitions of ‘sacred’) until released from my bond of service by Imperial decree.”

 _Who said Psilons lacked poetry?_  Ohica thought.

_Who said they lacked telepathic talents?_

Ohica shot a look at Karel Rossum and grinned. He knew as well as she did that  _their_  communication was secure; long hours of practise had left their minds all but intertwined.

The ranks of young officers spilled out of the grand hall and dispersed to their barracks for one last night of carefree celebration. In the morning they would clear their lockers and make their bunks for the last time, before heading to the transport hangars and their first assignments.

Karel came up alongside Ohica. Early in their relationship he might have tried to put and arm around her or hold her hand, but he had learned better. Instead of a physical gesture, he slipped his mind into hers, their consciousnesses mingling.

“Well,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed. Both words conveyed oceans of meaning, acting primarily as catalysts to synchronise their thoughts. In those two syllables they had already discussed and reached and accord that the Imperial Senate Drafting Committee’s idea of a sacred oath was frankly lacking. 

Ohica’s next thought had no verbal component; it would have been too dangerous. It was not actually framed in words, but the meaning could be filtered down, very roughly, to:  _Do you believe in the Pax Orion?_

_What’s to believe?_

_Kytho says that the Pax is a lie,_  she admitted.  _That there hasn’t been a day’s peace in the galaxy in over a thousand years._

Rossum smiled faintly.  _Well, he should know,_  Rossum agreed, understanding that few knew the galaxy so well as the male Elerians, whose clairvoyant powers encompassed all of known space.  _After all, if the Imperium really did only suffer one minor uprising and a few bursts of pirate activity every year, there’d be very little need for a hundred thousand new officers._

_It just makes you wonder…_

_What are we really fighting for?_

Ohica gave a soft, gurgling chuckle.  _I think I liked you better as an ordinary, blockheaded human._

By unspoken agreement, they waited for one of the express capsules. It would mean a ‘lift journey back up to their barracks from the hangar, but the capsules were smaller than the gravlifts and allowed a little privacy. The queue was long; clearly there were plenty of people wanting such privacy to share their moment of personal triumph.

The capsule closed and began its descent. Ohica stepped closer to Karel and let him put his arms around her, enjoying the physicality which was still so alien to her sensibilities. “I mean it,” she added. “Why do we fight if not to preserve peace?”

“I suppose… to preserve the appearance of peace; so that ordinary citizens – well, apart from Elerian clairvoyants, who are  _always_  the first to hear bad news – can go about their business without fear.”

“That means we’re fighting for a lie.”

“For an idea,” Rossum suggested. “Lots of people do that.”

“Humans,” Ohica chuckled. “I love your fuzzy way of thinking.”

“Anyway, once it comes down to it, we’re most likely to be fighting, in the immediate event, for our survival and that of our shipmates,” Rossum added. “Looking after each other.”

“And will you always let me look after you?” Ohica challenged.

Rossum laughed. “If you’ll let me look after you when you need it.”

Ohica smiled. There was no ceremony, no speeches, not formal words, just two people in a capsule elevator, but that bond was now sacred.


	2. Homecoming

“Lieutenant Rossum, I relieve you.”

Karel Rossum laid his hand on the control palette and Lt Scorven put its hand beside his, transferring the control codes from one to the other. As always, Rossum wondered what the scanner actually scanned to determined the identity of the Darlock officer.  
“Lieutenant Scorven, you disturb me, but I nonetheless stand relieved,” Rossum replied.

Scorven scowled, but let the flippancy pass. It was the thing that Humans were allowed to get away with, like the Sakkra smell, the Bulrathi belligerence and the Darlock’s tendency not to keep the same face from day-to-day.

Rossum left the bridge of the Long Range Survey and Patrol Vessel Or2836.04 – Rossum’s suggested name, the  _Quester_ , had been adopted by many of the crew, but rejected by the central registry on the grounds of its factual inelegance – and headed for the officer’s quarters. Before he had gone far, however, a siren song called him off his course and led him to the almost-empty observation deck.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me when I’m sleepy,” he said. “I almost walked into an airlock.”

“Sorry,” Ohica replied. “I thought you’d want to see this.”

Outside the windows, the whirl of hyperspace resolved into a scatter of stars in a black sky.

“Your timing, as ever, is perfect.”

Rossum smiled. “We’re on the edge of a planetary system,” he observed. “This is a survey ship on a survey mission, Oh. We come out of hyperspace on the edge of planetary systems every hundred days or so.”

“But not like this,” Ohica told him. “Aren’t you excited, Kar? Even a little bit? You’re going home.”

“It’s not my home,” he told her. “I was born on Gaea a hundred years after it became the capital of the Human Federation. Earth is nothing to me but a name in a history book.”

Ohica shook her head. “I can’t believe that,” she insisted. “You’ll feel differently when you see it.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “I can’t even trace my bloodlines back to Earth; Gaea was an engineered stock colony. My ancestors were all cloned from tailored genetic material less than seven generations back.”

“Everyone needs a home, and I know Gaea isn’t that for you. Did you ever go home once you arrived at the Academy?”

“A few times, but…”

“I went back to Eleria every break; you came home with me more often than you went to Gaea. You don’t feel rooted there; do you?”

“I suppose not,” Rossum admitted. “I just don’t feel the need for a sentimental attachment to a piece of real estate. And don’t tell me I  _must_  be sentimental,” he added. “If we’re going to lapse into stereotypes there are far more about Elerians.”

“You’re not sentimental because you’re human; you’re sentimental because you’re you,” Ohica laughed. “Earth will be visible in a few hours and I  _know_  you’ll feel something then. We can wait here in the meantime.”

“And do what?”

Ohica gave a gurgling laugh. “We’ll think of something.”

*

“You know, this is what brought us out here,” Ohica noted idly.

“The Elerian Confederation set out to explore the galaxy and get laid?” Rossum asked. “Our races really do have a lot in common.”

Ohica chuckled. “I’m serious. When our psychic powers first developed they were untempered. There were wars fought over stray thoughts and generations of Elerian males would lapse effectively into comas at puberty as their minds wandered untethered from their bodies. For almost six centuries we survived on in vitro fertilisation and stayed sane through the practice of institutional Sapphism. Stop drooling.”

“I wasn’t…”

“When our finest telepaths finally made contact with the drifting minds of the adult males and saw the galaxy and its peoples, four-and-a-half billion straight female Elerians were suddenly united in their desire to go boldly forth, to seek out new forms of life and get a decent shag for the first time in six hundred years. History is vague on the matter of first contact, but I doubt it was especially dignified.”

“You’re making this up.”

Ohica grinned. “Probably.” 

“Is that why there are so many stereotypes about Elerians? The congenital lying about their own history?”

Ohica shook her head. “It’s just that for centuries no-one ever saw an Elierian male. That’s the sort of thing that breeds rumours; like the fact that you can never recognise a Darlock. We got a reputation – especially from humanity – for being hard and domineering.” She sat up. “Get dressed. We’re almost there.”

“Well, there’s nothing hard or dominating about you.”

“Shut up and find my shirt.”

As Rossum pulled on his uniform he tried  _not_  to care about their approach to Earth. “After all,” he insisted, “it’s a ball of dust. The Antarans devastated the entire system. You saw Jupiter? After they condensed the gas giants, Jupiter became a paradise world; now it’s just a dead ball of rock, just like…” He broke off as something brushed across the surface of his mind.

“What is it?” Ohica asked.

“You didn’t feel it?”

“No.” Ohica was as puzzled as he was. He was, by human standards, a powerful psychic, but neither as skilled nor as sensitive a telepath as Ohica. “Let me…” With the merest flicker of request and acquiescence passing through their minds, she joined herself to him, their psychic selves melting into one. The touch came again and drew back, curious and wary.

 _Draw back,_  Rossum thought.

Ohica withdrew, leaving only a light touch on the back of his mind. When the unknown presence reached out again it found and contacted a human mind… and recognised a kindred being.

“A human mind!” Ohica gasped. “After all this time.”

“There is… a legend,” Rossum allowed, reaching back for her hand. “Before the second attack, Jupiter prepared a colony base to resettle and terraform Earth. If that was able to launch before the Antarans destroyed Jupiter it  _might_  have survived, overlooked in the void. They used to tell stories on Gaea of the lost homeworld, a planet in the backwaters of the galaxy where the last remnant of the original Human civilisation still thrived.” He reached out and embraced the touch. “And it’s true.”

*

As the ship approached Earth, Rossum could not contain his excitement. The planet was no mere dustbowl; while there was no sign of interstellar technology, the colony base had clearly managed to activate the necessary terraforming systems to recreate the planet’s ecosystem. Earth was a shining ball of blue, green and white, orbited by a battle-scarred moon. On its surface, a billion psychic souls reached out, welcoming the arrival of a saviour; an angel sent to bring them back to heaven.

“The captain’s agreed to let you lead a small survey team for an extended observation,” Ohica told him. “One standard year to pickup.”

Rossum’s heart raced.

Ohica pressed against his back and hugged him tightly. “I  _knew_  you’d be excited,” she purred.

“There’s going to be a lot of work to do, persuading them that I’m just a man. They think their gods have returned.”

“You’ll do just fine.”

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Small team; one officer,” she pointed out. “Besides, the captain wants all humans on the first contact and I’m a little too blue to pass. Don’t worry,” she added, moving her mind into his.  _I’ll always be with you; right here inside you. Which means no messing about with the native girls,_  she added darkly.

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “I don’t know what my people were looking for when they set out into the universe, but I only knew what  _I_  was looking for when I found you.”  _Stay safe, Ohica_.

_And you, Karel._

*

She was still there, in his mind, when the survey ship touched down in an isolated valley in the north of the planet. She was still there three days later, when the first of Earth’s humans came to greet him. And while the welcome was warm and the Earth felt… right beneath his feet, so long as she stayed with him he knew that his real home was out there, in the stars, with her.


	3. Buccaneers

The Shrine of the Skywatcher was one of the most revered holy sites of Earth. How much the people remembered of its original function, Karel Rossum did not know; enough to recall that it had been created to defend the planet against assault from space, that was clear. Of course, Rossum recognised it, if only just. It was a planetary defence battery; primitive by New Orion standards, but probably state of the art when it was built in the midst of the Antares War. The sealed systems were virtually intact, but like the rest of the planet it had no power.

Like most of the ancient homeworlds – Lux, Cryslon, Ursala; even Mentar-3 – Earth was a worked out world. The terraforming machines sent from Jove had resynthesised the minerals needed to make the soil fertile and support all forms of organic life, but it remained devoid of any form of fossil or nuclear fuel and the only machines on the planet were powered by steam and fired with wood furnaces. Rossum's shuttle had more power than the entire planet.

_Sieur!_

Rossum looked up with a frown at the reverent mind touch. The people of Earth had retained the psychic abilities engineered during the rise of the New Orion Empire, but not the training techniques to refine those abilities. Almost a quarter of the population possessed a measurable level of psionic awareness and the strongest could have matched Rossum for raw potential, but they had little notion of how to use their gifts. To them, the skill and subtlety of his mental abilities were the stuff of legend.

 _What is it, Kaebryel?_  He responded and almost at once could have kicked himself. However often he did it, his ability to identify any of the local 'mind-speakers' by their psychic signature alone never ceased to reinforce their image of him as a demi-god. Once more, he felt the start of surprise and the rising awe before Kaebryel replied.

_Death, Sieur. Most terrible._

Rossum frowned. The humans of Earth might be strangers to many things, but death was not one of them. For Kaebryel to be so upset, this death must be out of the ordinary.

_I'm on my way, Kaebryel._

_I shall take a look around,_  Kaebryel replied eagerly.  _I may find some clue._

Rossum was alarmed.  _No! Stay where you are._  He touched his collar to activate his communicator. “ _PEU-213_ ; I need a point-to-point transport.” He concentrated on Kaebryel's mind until he had a fix on her location. “Four-point-six-two kilometres; bearing 276.”

The reply came back from the Planetary Excursion Unit. “ _Acknowledged._  Activating in three, two, one.”

Rossum's skin tingled as the shuttle's transporters whisked him up and deposited him almost five kilometres away from his starting point. He found Kaebryel's mind again and headed towards her.

It was still an hour before sunset, but in the forest it was already twilight. The flash of a fusion blast was therefore easy to see, and even if had not been then Kaebryel's sudden terror and pain would have alerted him to the presence of enemies.

Rossum let his mind slide into a battletrance, extending his awareness through the forest. He touched the animal minds around him and two – besides Kaebryel's – that were anything but. One was cool and determined, the other hot and eager for the kill as they closed in on the injured local. Neither had any significant psychic talent, but they had fusion carbines; crude, but cheap and easy to maintain in a rough and ready fashion.

He drew his sidearm from beneath his cloak as the eager one's excitement flared. He could not see the enemy, but he knew where they were. He fired, the beam of his plasma pistol burning into the darkness and snuffing out the deadly mind. 

The second man turned and fired, sweeping a wide-angle fusion beam across the forest. Trees burst as their sap expanded and flames leaped from the drier patches of scrub and leaf-litter. The beam was invisible, but flickered where it touched Rossum's personal shield. Thankfully, the carbine's power was insufficient to penetrate the shield on wide beam and Rossum was able to shoot the second man down.

He ran close. The two men lay sprawled on the forest floor, each with a neat hole burned through his head. They wore armoured spacesuits but, like their weapons, the suits were crude, obsolete technology and had melted under the plasma beam's onslaught. Rossum tagged the bodies and their gear for transport; no sense in leaving anything so disturbing lying around, let alone the fusion carbines with their barely stable nuclear power cells.

Kaebryel was huddled in the undergrowth, blanketed in a reflexive mental shield. The cover would have done nothing to hide her from the scanners in her attackers' visors; it was the psychic defence which had saved her life. As it was, she was badly injured, her arm seared almost the bone and her body no doubt blistered all over by the thermal burst. That was not the worst of it either; it was the radiation that was already killing her.

Rossum activated his communicator again. “ _213_ ; two non-terrestrial humanoids tagged with off-world gear.” He bent down and lifted Kaebryel in his arms.

_What did I tell you about native girls?_

_Not the time, Ohica,_  Rossum replied.  _Got a bit of a situation here._

 _I know,_  the Eleri replied, her mind-voice clearer than Kaebryel's ever was, despite the fact that she was light years away.  _I felt the battletrance. Are you alright?_

“Initiate emergency transport to medical bay,” Rossum instructed the shuttle.  _For now,_  he assured Ohica,  _but that could change._

He felt Ohica's mind mesh comfortably with his and touch the memories of the past few minutes. She saw the two attackers in their outdated armour, with their obsolete carbines, and reached the same conclusions as Rossum.

_Buccaneers._

The transporter beam swept Rossum up and shifted him to the shuttle's medical bay. He set Kaebryel on one of the beds and left her in Doctor Soran's capable hands.

As he made his way to the bridge, he continued to think to Ohica.  _Scouts, I think. If they reported back before I found them..._

_Had they been there long?_

_Long enough to have killed already,_  Rossum replied.  _I can do a rad-trace on the signatures from those fusion carbines to make sure, but I need to assume they've reported a rich world, ripe for the picking._  He walked onto the bridge and addressed his second in command, Warrant Officer Kota. 

“Get a power cell out to the battery,” he ordered. “It's an old battery, but they'll have an old ship.”

“Who will?” Kota asked, confused.

“Buccaneers,” Rossum replied. “Planetary raiders,” he added, as Kota was new to the service and buccaneers were a minor threat in most parts of the galaxy. “There's probably an old cruiser – at least a century old and past its prime when it was constructed – somewhere around the Jovian orbit and accelerating this way. 

“There'll be a scout ship somewhere on the planet and maybe more bodies on the ground. Run a rad-trace to check. Then get the ship up and cloaked and run up the weapons and shields.”

“Against a cruiser?” Kota was shocked.

“An old cruiser, and we're all this planet has.”

 _For now,_  Ohica assured him.  _We're on our way, Karel. Just hold on. ETA... three solar days._

Rossum nodded. As his small crew hurried to carry out his orders, he gazed through the viewscreen into the darkening sky. He had told Kaebryel and her people that that sky did not hold legends, but now it would bring forth both damnation and salvation.


	4. One Mind

Oh's weigh pressed down on top of Karel, her body warm, her skin soft but lying over hard muscle. She kissed his collar bone, his throat and then finally his mouth. He felt a great pressure on his carefully established psychic defences, but beyond that it was hard to believe that Ohica was not as human as he was.

 _Orion stock_ , she reminded him.  _The ancient kinship of all sentient life._  

Hearing her voice in his mind was strange when he was so  _very_  aware that her mouth was sealed hard against his own. Her psychic touch played across the surface of his shields, prying and poking, seeking for a way in.

 _Stop that_ , he thought.  _It's dangerous._

_For a human, perhaps. My people have been telepaths for a hundred generations. I won't burn your mind away._

She wriggled her hips and the distraction broke down his defences long enough for her to slip inside his mind; in truth, long enough for an army of psychics to invade his consciousness.

 _They'd have to get past me_ , she assured him, hearing the thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud.  _I told you how I feel about sharing._

This was true. “You can play the field,” she had assured him, “but if you do, I'll set the field on fire.” 

He'd held back for weeks from pursuing a relationship with Ohica, despite their friendship and his own fierce attraction towards her, because of her refusal to entertain a casual relationship. He had planned his time at the Academy carefully, and he had not intended to make any serious commitment before his third year. He had quickly learned that his intentions counted for little, and that it would have been impossible to plan for Ohica.

 _I wasn't going to give myself away at all_ , she told him now, and he knew it to be true. She wasn't just speaking to him; their thoughts were mingling. He could feel her spreading her presence throughout his mind and drawing out his own telepathic abilities, leading them into her psyche. He could see the wonder of her mind, far more alien than her body and yet beautiful beyond description.

 _Ohica_ , his mind gasped.  _I could lose myself in you._

 _You're the strongest human I ever met. It's just new to you. Relax; let yourself flow into me. I've got you_ , she promised.

*

 _I've got you, Karel._  Ohica's psychic touch penetrated the fog of pain.  _Stay with me._  “Narsim; move this thing.”

Pain flared hot and bright as Narsim's mighty, Bulrathi frame twisted away the beam that had trapped his hips. He felt the sting of an injector at his throat and painkillers and healing nanites flooded his bloodstream.

 _What happened?_  he asked.

Her reply was more images than words: the chaos of a battle, one shuttle against a cruiser; the inevitable defeat and the shuttle crashing onto the planet.

 _You held them off until we got here,_  she told him.  _Earth is safe. The radiation from the cruiser's engines blanketed the sensors, but I found you._  She bent and kissed his lips.

 _You always do,_  he reminded her.

 _And I always will._  She stood back to let the medics take him out of the wreck of the shuttle, but her mind stayed with him, the two of them forever one.


End file.
